


By Carousel Lights

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Category: America's Suitehearts - Fall Out Boy (Music Video), Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, America's Suitehearts (Music Video), Curses, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Magic, Past Lives, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: That night on the hill, they realized that shadows and light were not so far apart. That love could blossom in the spaces between dawn and nightfall, and it could make something that was new and breathtakingly beautiful.A life that neither one of them could ever imagine filled with light, love, a Little One to call their own, and a curse that threatens to rip it all away from them. -----Suitehearts AU***11/6 ->Minor edits made





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's here!!! 
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful beta [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) who took the time to look over this and made so many fantastic suggestions. (The summary above was something written by her that I simply couldn't pass up). Thank you Darling! 
> 
> Inspiration for Kitty Cheshire goes to the following: http://archaical.deviantart(.)com/art/Chesire-Cat-318072386
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Melancholy does fair well against your scheme, such a sad shade does not suit the rogue on your cheeks nor the jolly yellow of your wardrobe.”

He looks up into the tree, leaves dancing in the wind as he catches sight of a familiar  blue-green knitted hat with pointy ears, a painted feline-like smile with jagged teeth, and sweater faux paws hanging over her wrists. Her legs swing giddily in the air as she sits on a branch peering down at him with such rapt content and mischievous wonder. The Mystical being was the last creature he wished to see on a day such as this. Yet he, bright and warm as the colors of his clothes, felt blue and cold like the dead winter’s lows.

Kitty Chester was a most unwelcome sight, indeed.

 “While I prefer you in cooler and darker hues, it makes me curious as to why such a colorful and radiant creature as you could ever be so blue,” she sighs before giggling madly, laughing and jumping down to land beside him with elegance, finesse, and feline grace. She continues to sing with childlike glee, “Tell me, tell me, my dear doctor! Tell me what ails you!” She laughs as she bounces around him, “What tragedy has showered our good, loving singer of songs in such a miserable, dismal state?”

“Nothing that concerns you, I might say,” he replied, his voice light, eyes averted, casting a longing gaze over to Hollywood Hills, lights illuminating the sky like wildfires in July, colors ablaze. The sounds of children and adults drift to him—their laughing and singing, watching the many shows, enamored with tricks and treasures, entranced by songs and dance. He should be down there, notes and melodies falling from his heart- painted lips, drawing in crowds with delighted smiles and wonder-filled eyes.

But he couldn’t pretend today.

He couldn’t pretend, couldn’t portray the hue of his clothes, could not bring the smile that drew children to his side and adults and teens into his tent, asking him for potions and remedies. He could not be the happiness, he could not be the hope, the warmth, the shade as bright and welcoming at the morning sun…he couldn’t be any of those things tonight; not when his heart was so heavy, so dark with gloom.

He hears the feline stalk to his side arms wrapping around his shoulders, purring in his ear with sickening sweetness. “Oh dear Doctor, what ails you does concern me, tell me the dark secrets that sink that heart of yours, let me see the dusted chains that hold down your spirt? Perhaps I maybe be able to pick at the lock that binds your mind, dear, dear Dr. Benzedrine.” His name leaves her lips with a sultry hint and dripping with deceiving saccharine sweetness. Any other creature would have fallen for the large pleading eyes, pouting lips, the false sweetness in her voice, the way her hand inches up his chest with seductive intentions, indulgent…

But not Benzedrine.

“ _Will you stop, you infuriating cat_!” Benzedrine growls out, roughly shoving away at the feline. As she skitters away, Kitty Cheshire giggles madly, her grin appearing even wider despite being painted on.

“My, my, my!” she says, glowing aqua-teal eyes on Benzedrine as she shakes her head with each word, mirth and joy in her tone as her attention is caught. “Ah…a tempest in a tea cup.” she giggles, turning in a circle, a bizarre but captivating sort of dance. “A peroxide prince bares sharp shark teeth!” He watches as she giggles deliriously, the echo of her laugh among the forest making him unsteady, but he stands firm.

Suddenly, she stops in her tracks and tilts her head ever so slightly, as if the wind is whispering delightful secrets of gossip in her ear. Intricately painted cat-like eyes flutter shut then open, eyes glancing high into the pale moon above. Then she hums with content, almost like a purr before turning to the Benzedrine.

“Well, my dear friend, it pains me to cut this short, but I am needed back below to watch over our humble little piece of chaotic madness.” She stalks over to him once more. “Such pretty lies fall from heart-painted lips. What you need, to brighten your hue, is to feel the dark for a little more light…” She giggles and she skips away. “You’ve traced his shadows on the walls,” She turns back towards him, eyes gleaming, mouth wide in a smile, “Now kiss them whenever you’re down, Benzedrine.”

She dissolves into wispy teal smoke, dancing playfully in the wind and dissipating into the endlessly bejeweled sky.

He curses her. Curses her advances, her words…but in the end, he is thankful she is gone, merely wisp in the wind and he is once again alone to wade in his dark ocean. He settles down on his perch overlooking tempting lights, swirling rides, and the sound of giddy laughter floating up from the crowds down below.

His sleeve comes to his mouth as he harshly erases the maquillage from his lips and cheeks, smearing the red heart smudged on the yellow of his coat, faint color still on his mouth, and pink-red rouge rubbed from high pale cheekbones.

Benzedrine knew shadows did not linger towards the light, so why would _he_ …

X.x.X

Mr. Sandman lingers in the shadows of the stalls, following patrons around Hollywood Hills, devising, planning ways to trick the weak and fool-hearted souls. His eyes catch on one young lady. _She would make a lovely new addition..._ He begins to think of ways to reel in her line, with dark eyes and flirty smile, maybe a twist of elegant words and false promises.

His painted smile widens as he sends tendrils of darkness her way, snake-like shadows slithering down shimmering lights and weaving through crowds, wrapping around her ankle, crawling around her chest to bind her heart. She freezes as if she hears someone call her name, his minions, his unseen helpers, sneaking into her ear and heart… _Yes, I’ll visit your dreams tonight, perhaps my dear friend would have fun with this poor soul…_

“Ooo…what a lovely catch you’ve made, I want the first bite of her pretty, sugary soul…”

 _Speaking of the Cheshire_ …He turns his head ever so slightly to find her clinging to his shoulder, chin resting there as her arms move to wrap around his middle.

“You can’t say I don’t think of you when picking out prospects,” he grins, watching as his shadows return to his hand and the girl walks off into Donnie’s booth, already enamored with the lights and the spectacles.

From where he stands he watches as a mother and son pass, hand in hand. However, the child—as sweet and innocent as he may be—holds sadness in his eyes as he holds a stuffed toy prize to his chest. “Mama, where’s Dr. Benzedrine?”

The mother stops and looks down at her child with a soft, but somber smile. “He’s not here today, Sweetie, we already passed by the stage and his booth.”

“But why?” asked the boy, clearly upset as the disappearance of the prominent singer and kind-hearted doctor of Hollywood Hills.

“Perhaps the good doctor is sick, my love? Maybe he needs to rest.”

The boy seemed sadden by the news, eyes cast downward to his feet. “I miss Dr. Benzedrine, I was going to show him my prize and I wanted to watch him sing songs, Mama…”

“Perhaps we can leave him a note on his door, wishing him better health or to let him know he is missed.”

The child perked up at that, “Can we Mama? We can make something for him at Tiffany Blews’ Art Booth!”

The kind woman smiled at her son, “Of course, I believe she’s right down this way…”

Sandman watched with rapt interest, curiosity and worry clouding his features. He too had been by Benzedrine’s booth, his little enclave with potions and spells, with a small stool out in front to perch on as he sang to the younger ones. He was set to take the stage when the clock rang nine, however, there was no set-up. Needless to say, many were slightly disappointed by his disappearance—the self-proclaimed King of Shadows being one.

“The little ones mourn his presence, poor innocent souls,” purrs Sandman’s feline-like companion, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, her Kitty’s voice smooth as velvet. “Their innocence takes to his sunshine hues and charismatic smile, not to mention melodic voice.”

“The children adore him, and he adores them in return,” Sandman says slowly, golden eyes narrowed. “It’s not like him to miss unannounced. I worry-” Kitty scoffs against his back, fingers playing with his shadows, like threads of yarn through her fingers.

“Our ray of sunlight in this dismal land has been clouded, he wishes to be left to swim in his sea of infected thoughts...”

Sandman turns to her eyes, glowing eyes catching her own aqua ones. “Clouded?”

The feline nods, and nonchalantly hops onto a large crate, arching her back in cat-like fashion as she drapes her lithe body over it. “I am afraid so, his light is dimming, like a candle in a vast ocean with seas as rough as the rocks it beats upon. I will tell you, dear friend, what I told him; While I prefer him in dark and cool hues, what does not fit is dreary blues in his those eyes,” she props her chin on her hand. “Melancholic as he may be, I believe I know what troubles him.”

Sandman turns to her, waiting for her to continue. “And? What is it?”

Her grin grows wider. “My the dark of the moon, what is this I see?” her tone light and playful, “Does the King of Shadows, the Seer of Nightmares, our _dear_ Mr. Sandman whose shadow shines divine, have feelings for our Doctor Benzedrine?”

He glares at her, a shadow slithering up the crate, ready to grasp at her neck for her mocking, how dare she…Kitty seems to catch on, dissipating with a laugh before appearing on a roof, giggling manically as she swings her legs back and forth with child-like playfulness.

“Now, that wasn’t very kind.” She tsked, smile etched on her face.

“Spill, Cheshire. What if I do?” He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but like the children and many of their patrons, he had grown fond of the beautiful, yellow-suited singer and doctor, never missing a show, always craving to hear his voice as he sings on the stage, singing songs for the children. They’ve talked from a distance, and does he dare to even say, he’s grown attached to the kind man with a soulful voice, rouge on his lips and cheeks. He’s dreamt of feeling him, of tasting the light on his lips, cloaking him in the darkness of his shadows and protecting him from the very few that mock him, detest him, hate him. He wants nothing more than to see him smile…

However, darkness and shadows do not always thrive in the light.

“You’re just as dense as he is, you poor love-struck souls,” she laughs. “The shadows in your eyes are not as dark when you think of him, I can tell,” she pauses as she watches her friend below—her partner in crime as no other will venture in and play with the shadows and darkness as she does. “To the hill above the land is where you will find our Benzedrine…go to him.” She disappeared in the end, but Sandman could still feel her presence around him, her voice whispering in his ear. _“Remember, while dark cannot thrive in light, one cannot exist without the other….that’s why we have shadows, wouldn’t you agree, my love?”_

Sandman turns to the hill overlooking the city, vaguely seeing a figure, small and dismal. As he stares at the figure upon it, immobile but captivating, he retreats into the shadows to go talk to a certain doctor…

X.x.X

The silence is welcoming to Benzedrine’s mind as he looks over the lights of Hollywood Hills, so much so that his mind is filled with thoughts, of dancing chords, pounding rhythms, and so many concoctions for potions and charms that he does not detect the presence of another, a shadow that had joined him on the noiseless hill top.

“You didn’t perform today,” Sandman’s voice drifted to him through the wind, soft and inquiring. It didn’t seem to match the King of Shadows and Dreams, who was known to be loud and brash as the nightmares he bestows upon those out of his favor.

The doctor doesn’t turn, but startles slightly at the voice, feeling the shadows linger close in a gentle way. “I’m sorry to disappoint. I was feeling ill today,” Benzedrine answers easily, the dark grass under the coat he sits on damp and fresh between his fingers, grounding him. “I’m confident I was not missed for the evening.”

The shadow master materialized as he approached, sitting close to the brightly hued singer. “Many were saddened by your absence to say the least, especially by the little ones.” Sandman explains, looking over as the neon fire of the lights of Hollywood Hills bled into the inky black darkness of the night.

“I’ll return tomorrow, not to worry,” the doctor manages. “And you? Shouldn’t you be below?”

Sandman simply reclines as he lays down beside the still-seated Benzedrine. “I’ve completed my hunt for the evening. A few whose nightmares are ripe for the taking, but my concern was you.” Sandman paused for a moment, something stirring in his chest as he turned his gaze from the brilliant night sky to the singer besides him. He was cautious of the words he was about to speak next. “The patrons were not the only ones that mourned your absence.”

Benzedrine looked over at the darker clad man, puzzled. “You were concerned? Why?” he asked looking unsure, his blue-green eyes never leaving Sandman.

Feeling the light in his chest brighten, courage rising in his chest as he looked over at the pale musician, he willed his shadows still as he leaned in closer, his hand rising ever so carefully to trail cool fingertips down Benzedrine’s cheeks. At the tough, the yellow-hued singer’s eyes fluttering shut like butterflies wings. “How could I not, when time has shown me that my shadows cannot exist without your light,” whispered Mr. Sandman, his voice floating like the leaves in the cool autumn breeze, his lips mere inches from Benzedrine’s.

The hill’s other occupant hummed lightly. “Light does not shine without your shadows,” the doctor muttered, his lips lifting up into a smile. Something settled over him, something tangible and real; the answer he’s been looking for all this time. It was the equation that baffled his mind and filled his sleepless night, the missing link to the perfect elixir. Sandman was that link, the missing key, what he had always been searching for, what he had been longing for…it had been right under his noise for the longest of times.

He couldn’t waste another second. He always had been his other half. Benzedrine leans in and carefully moves his lips over Sandman’s, kissing him with urgency and weaving an unseen bond stronger than anything either had felt before. It was earthshattering.

As they parted, Sandman nuzzled his cheek before stealing another kiss from the golden hued doctor. “You are my Moon, my Day…” he whispers into his mouth with such fervor.

Benzedrine simply smiles as his hands come to cradle the other’s face in his palms, as if to make sure it wasn’t a fevered dream or a trick. An amazed sigh escaped his lips when he realized this was _real_. “You are my Night and my stars,” he replied with just as much reverence.

That night on the hill, they realized that shadows and light were not so far apart. That love could blossom in the spaces between dawn and nightfall, and it could make something that was new and breathtakingly beautiful.

X.x.X.

As the seasons changed, their love of each other strengthened—Winter to Spring, Spring to Summer, Summer to Fall. Sandman and Dr. Benzedrine remained true to each other, many of their dear friends ecstatic about their coupling, as well as many of their patrons.

Mr. Sandman was often found lingering in the shadows of the good doctor’s tent, watching with loving whiskey-colored eyes as the singer moved around his booth during the day, making potions and elixirs for the patrons who came seeking his talents.

Today was one such day. As Benzedrine moved with intent around his booth to gather the ingredients necessary to make a remedy for a lovely young woman, the shadow master rested lazily against the corner, simply opening an eye now and then to catch a glimpse of buzzing yellow, his Light looking more like a honey bee.

Before he could return to his own land of dreams, Sandman caught a glance of a child from the corner of his eye. Turning to the child, Sandman sees that the child was a girl with brown curls and curious eyes of evergreen—a spitting image of the patron. He can tell she is captivated by his presence, which is a welcomed surprise when most have the tendency to run from the man known as the King of Nightmares.

She smiles brightly at him and he returns it, lifting his hand ever so slightly, commanding a single tendril of one of his inky black shadows to lift up and slide easily into his palm.

“What do you adore, my dear?”

The child thinks for a moments before replying softly. “I like ballerinas.” The Sandman nods and beckons the child closer, bringing her attention to the black puddle of shadows in his hand. He brought his other hand above the twisting shadow and swirled his fingers with smooth and graceful movements, making the shadows morph and sparkle with gold flecks. A miniature ballerina takes shape and rises in his palm, standing _en pointe_ before she begins to dance in the Shadow Master’s hand.

The child is enraptured by the shadow figure dance in his hand, the ballerina specked with glimmering gold as she does a _ballonné_ and a _pirouette_. Her evergreen eyes are wide as she takes in the dance, and they sparkle as Sandman motions for her to extend her palm, allowing the ballerina to leap from his hand to hers, continuing her graceful dance.

When the ballerina ends in a graceful bow, she dissipates into a flurry of glittering black and gold sand and the child looks up Sandman with gratitude in her smile. “Thank you so much!” she cries and leaps into his arms.

Sandman is taken aback, shocked for a lack of better terms at the child suddenly in his grasp. Children, Sandman ponders for a moment, do not usually flock to him. It is usually his lover, Dr. Benzedrine, that the children adore—always rushing to hug him or tell him about their adventure, or beg him for a song. Benzedrine listens always has time for them. He hugs the children in return or sings them a song as he strums his guitar. But it is rare when a child comes to Mr. Sandman, for he is the one that their parents warn them about, that if they misbehave he would gift them nightmares and cursed dreams.

But this child does not seem to know any of that…

After a moment, Sandman melts into the child’s embrace, a smile spreading over face as warmth fills his chest.

When the child and her mother take their leave, her mother giving him a kind smile and a nod, he wills swirling sand of black and gold around the child, wishing her well dreams of ballerinas and tutus, and a peaceful nights’ rest for her mother.

Later that afternoon, hours before the sun sets on their humble land, before the darkness creeps its way into the sky and the neon of Hollywood Hills comes to life, Benzedrine and Sandman take a small reprieve from the bustle of the chaos below. They are above once more, on the overlooking hill, Sandman resting his head in the lap of the Doctor, Benzedrine’s fingers carding through his dark hair with loving tenderness. As the sun begins to fall, they find themselves conversing over children, about how the kind doctor adores them, and how Sandman wishes they were more at ease with him, but would admit that he has been fond of the way the children smile at him more since they cemented their relationship.

It’s a fleeting thought that stays with the two in back of their minds as time passes, of a child in their home, a little soul to care for.

Months would pass before they are granted that wish, one crisp autumn afternoon.

Both Sandman and Dr. Benzedrine had been chatting with Donnie the Catcher and Horseshoe Crab when a group of children ran toward the yellow- clad singer with frantic cries. “Dr. Benzedrine! Dr. Benzedrine!” one of them calls, “You must come quick!” As the children draw closer, some tugged insistently the singer’s bright coat while others moved to grab Sandman’s hand, willing him to join them.

“Why, what’s is wrong?” Benzedrine asked softly, taking in the genuine concern in the children’s faces.

“There is crying coming from your booth!”

“Like child but there’s no parent in sight!”

“It sounds like an baby!” the children explain, their voices overlapping each other.

The four men look at each other before Horseshoe is first to speak, his head of messy curls fluttering in the breeze. “We’ll go with you to check this out.” Donnie nods, adjusting his glasses solemnly.

The four follow the flock of children back to Benzedrine’s booth. There under his tall stage is an audience of sorts, standing in a semi-circle from where the crying was coming from. The crowd of bystanders—both patrons and performers—part for the Doctor and Sandman, revealing to them a bundle wrapped in soft blue coming from a wicker basket.

“Finally, the both of you have arrived,” sighs Kitty Cheshire from her perch atop of he stage, her legs swinging idly, as Benzedrine approached the basket cautiously. Swaddled in soft blue was a child, an infant of nearly a month. He was pale with fine blonde curls and grey-blue eyes, his cheeks ruddy from screaming and tears streaming down his small face. He picks the child up from the basket, holding him in his arms, shushing the child with gentle rocking motions. “It’s alright, Little One,” he coos gently, and the babe’s cries fade in whimpers. He loosens the blanket as Sandman watches his lover cradle the infant with such tenderness it makes light glimmer in his chest, before something white catches his eyes. Bending down, he finds a card laying innocently in the basket, elegant handwriting smeared by tears on the page.

It is from the child’s mother, asking—no, begging—for someone to care for her baby in ways she could not, pleading for someone to give her child a home and life full of love and compassion. As whiskey eyes glance through the note, Sandman can feel that the woman was clearly distraught, but also hopeful that someone would find and care for her infant.

Sandman can feel the pull of his shadows yearning to be near the infant, to cradle and protect, much like they once did when he first set eyes on Benzedrine years ago. He allows a few of his shadows to indulge in their curiosity, letting them glide across the ground and pool cautiously close to the singer. They took the form of a crow and perched on his shoulder, tipping its head to one side to look at the now calm child in Benzedrine’s arms. His shadows hum in a sort of content even as the Shadow Master wraps his arms around his lover, ignoring the chatter of the crowd as the discuss this mysterious appearance.

There is a warmth that grows in his chest as he takes in the sight of the man he loves cradling a child—blue-green eyes soft along with the rest of his features as he stares down at the infant in his arms. His heart blooms like a flower given water for the first time in an endless drought…its like kissing Benzedrine on top of the hill, like making love to him under the moonlight, like hearing the desperate ‘I love you’s’ whispered against his skin.

He’s falling in love with Benzedrine all over again.

“What are we going to do?” Benzedrine asks, his voice just above a whisper as he looks from the child to Sandman. He reaches out and runs his fingers through the child’s hair and strokes his doughy cheeks, grey eyes wide and inquisitive as they turn to him. There’s no other answer than the one that’s ready to fall from his lips.

“We’ve talked about a child before…perhaps this is our wish coming true.” Sandman drops an arm around his lover’s waist as Benzedrine’s face glows. He kisses his temple, looking down the new picture painted before him, his world growing brighter than before.

That night, in the warmth of their home, he held his moon and his stars in his arms.

X.x.X

Five summers had passed, and their Little One had given them both truly lovely memories, like the rain that gives the world flowers in the spring. Their world had grown colorful and full of life like neither one could have ever imagined.

Their lives continued, Dr. Benzedrine with his potions and elixirs, singing songs from his stage every night, and Mr. Sandman gifting dreams and casting nightmares, his shadows a familiar presence. But now their Little One was part of their lives, a mischief-maker with a heart of gold, full of life and love and happiness.

Their world was complete.

Until one fateful night.

After the patrons had left for the evening, the performers gathered around the Carousel in the heart of Hollywood Hills to celebrate a successful night with singing and dancing. Laughter and smiles filled the air as everyone gathered under the stars and neon carousel lights.

As the children ran around playing and weaving through, their laughter contagious as their innocence, the performers gathered around. Several were dancing to the lively music drifting in the air. Benzedrine and Sandman were two such souls, their bodies pressed closed together as they swayed to the strumming of guitars and harps and the beating of a drum. They both smiled as they caught sight of a familiar mop of curly blonde hair being chased by a younger child, the dark haired little girl who was Horseshoe Crab and Tiffany Blews, their bright little gem giggling madly as she chased the older boy in a game of tag.

There was peace and love among their little tangle of family and friends, until a blood curling scream shattered it, cutting through the air like a hot knife.

A dark menacing cloud of swirling purple, blues and blacks showed itself over the horizon, freezing the performers and their families in place.

“What is that?” whispered Benzedrine, clutching onto Sandman, forehead creased at the toxic- looking cloud crawling over their land.  Sandman was at a loss for words, confused by the appearance of this menace, but his shadows were up and armed, buzzing with anticipation of an attack.

“Papa! Daddy!” Both turned to see their Little One running towards them, eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears.

“Come here, my Little Love,” breathed Benzedrine, scooping the child up in his arms. He holds on to the white of Benzedrine’s shirt, his jacket long forgotten once the festivities had started, as Sandman moves them stand in front of them, shielding them.

“Oh no, why now?”

Sandman looks up to see Kitty Cheshire’s glowing teal eyes wide with fear, her painted grin morphed into one of shock.

“What’s going on?” he hissed over at the woman, her usual charm and sass drained from her demeanor.

“It had begun…the curse that will destroy our land! We stand no match, the curse is upon us…”

All eyes turned to her, as she continued, panicked riddles falling from her lips. “A cloud of toxic dreams and an endless sleep…we stand no chance…this was not supposed to take place for another hundred years…the curse is upon us and all we know will be destroyed…”

Something sinks inside Sandman as he remembers the prophecy and he turns to his lover and child, bringing the both of them close his chest, Benzedrine shaking.

“What can we do,” someone asks, but Sandman knows the answer already, kissing the back of their Little One’s head as Kitty answers, her voice trembling.

“Nothing…it will consume us.”

X.x.X.

He stood guard from their Little One’s balcony, watching as the haze of purple smoke slowly began to devour their land—its pace slow, sinking and penetrating. His shadows clung to him, tendrils of black not straying too far from his body, ready to fight and protect what was dear to him. He was on edge, but yet at the same time, resigned about his fate.

He turned, eyes looking past the open French doors leading from the balcony back into the warmth of the Little One’s haven, the room lit by candlelight.

In a child’s bed sat the two lights of his existence, his moon and his stars. Benzedrine cradled the child in his arms, brushing away a golden lock of hair from wide grey-blue eyes as he hummed a smoothing lullaby, his coat draped over their Little One like a blanket.

There was soft smile on Benzedrine’s lips, however deeply the melancholy clouded his eyes as their Little One took the small cup in his hands and tipped it gently into his mouth. Crystalline tears shone in the good doctor’s eyes as the child finished the cup. The liquid inside, sweet orange juice tinged purposely with one of Benzedrine’s elixirs, was drained by the child without so much as a wince, only a small yawn escaping as his eyes began to droop.

“Daddy?” called out the child and he curled further into the doctor’s chest.

Benzedrine smiled weakly at the child snuggled in his brilliant yellow coat. “Yes, my love?”

“When morning comes, can we go to the carousel? Horseshoe said that was the best place to see the sunrise…”

The doctor nodded, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his fingers ran through the Little One’s locks, heartbroken that this may be the last time he’d get to hold this picture of innocence in his arms. “When the sun rises, my love, we’ll watch the light bleed and blend into dawn.”

The child’s lids grew heavier as Sandman enters the room, a tendril of shadow slithering up to lay across the child, comforting him. Sleep-heavy grey eyes looked up at him weakly from the brilliantly-colored cocoon as their Little One smiled at him.

“Papa,” the child sighed softly, as Sandman joined his lover and their child on the bed. With one hand he ran his fingers along the Little One’s cheek softly, from temple to chin. With the other, he brushed away crystalline tears from his beloved’s eyes.

“Papa...Daddy says we’ll go to the carousel in the morning…”

Sandman smiled, moving his hand from the child’s small round cheek to his back, right next to Benzedrine’s, as the singer leaned against his body, holding the child close as he hides his face in the crook of the shadow master’s neck. Sandman curls an arm and a tendril of shadows around the shoulder of his beloved, strengthening him. “Yes, we will, when the sun breaks over the clouds, but don’t fight sleep, my Little Love. I’ll stand watch over your dreams…”

“The both of us will,” added the yellow-hued singer added from his lover’s neck, yet loud enough to be heard by the child in his arms. His eyes met Sandman’s, unspoken volumes in his gaze, as his lips form the final word. “Together.” Tears are trailing down his pale cheeks, unstained by his usual rouge. Their Little One’s eyes fall closed as the doctor holists the boy up to rest his head on his shoulders to let him seek the comfort of his embrace one last time.

The child falls deep into sleep, nuzzling close to the warmth of the doctor’s neck, his plush yellow suit jacket blanketing him. The King of Dreams’ eyes grow soft as he leans in to kiss the child’s crown, as swirls of black and gold float from his fingertips to the boy’s head, dreams of carnivals and carousels settling into his mind. Benzedrine settles him onto the bed, wrapping the coat around him like it can protect him, tucking it under his feet tenderly.

Sandman picks up the vial on the nightstand beside him, the contents swirling blue and silver, the twin of the one given to their Little One for a peaceful, deep sleep. But this was for Benzedrine.

“Come, my Love,” Sandman breathes, caressing the singer’s face in his palm, brushing away the tears that begin to fall from blue-green eyes. “There isn’t much time left,” he says softly, his voice laced with sorrow as he uncaps the elixir.

The elixir was so that Benzedrine, their Little One, and their friends would simply sleep through the consuming curse—to not feel the unimaginable pain that Kitty had described to them. It was simply a sleeping potion, but a strong one at that. _“It will be broken when the time comes, and we will wake up from our dreams and be a family once more”_ Kitty had told them…so sleep they will. Except for Sandman. The King of Dreams cannot be inoculated from of curse of his own medium, of his own craft. There is no elixir to save him.

“No, I can't--I can't leave you to suffer.” Benzedrine’s voice trembles and pitches with heartbreak.

Sandman only smiles sadly as he shakes his head, memorizing the contours of the face he loves. “No matter what, I’ll be thinking of you.”

Benzedrine leans his forehead against Sandman, before moving to capture his lips with his own desperately, pouring his love and every bit of him into the kiss. He prayed that the words he couldn’t trust his voice to speak aloud would be told in this simple act of passion, his body trembling in fear that this might be the last time he’ll ever be near his Sandman or their Little One, that he’ll never again feel the warmth that filled his heart and existence with so much love and meaning. The thought that he might lose it all when his closes his eyes terrifies him.

Benzedrine doesn’t want to be alone again, he doesn’t want to lose his Night and his Little Love.

“Promise me,” he whispers desperately against Sandman’s lips, his voice shaking as he raises one hand to curl around the back of the Shadow Master’s neck, tears continuing to fall down his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

Sandman brings his own hand to cradle the back of Benzedrine’s, looking straight into his love’s eyes, golden whiskey- brown meeting blue-green hazel, pouring himself and his love into the words he was unable to say. “I promise,” he whispers with such emotion, his voice strong and unwavering. “ _I swear it_ ,” Sandman breathes with such vehemence. “I’ll find you in the next life. Even if it takes me a thousand years.”

Kissing one last time, mouthing ‘I love you’s against each other’s lips, Sandman tilts the vial of swirling blue elixir to Benzedrine’s lips, watching as he downs it all in one single go.

The effects are almost immediate as the Doctor’s eyes become sleep- hazed and unfocused. “Little One..." he looks longingly at the bed, but keeps a firm grasp on his love. Sandman gently helps him lay down, Benzedrine curling protectively around their Little One even on the cusp of sleep.

“I love you, Sandman,” he hears the singer whisper as he wills swirls of gold and black to be the purest dreams he could muster for his love, kissing his temple tenderly when his eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out, speaking softly into the his lover’s ear. “And I love you, My Benzedrine. Forever.”

The purple and black haze is close, his shadows are on edge and ready to defend him, but he wills them stand down, throwing his arm over to the bed where his Moon and his Stars laid sleeping peaceful. “Protect them for as long as you can,” his command rings deep and solid through the room, a sea of skittering shadows falling obediently over the two like a blanket.

A moment later, he sees the toxic fog float up around the balcony, crawling slowly towards him. But Sandman doesn’t move, only looks back at Benzedrine and their Little One on the bed, before feeling his chest constrict, the haze wrapping around him like a boa, squeezing him, suffocating him. Then the pain begins, a scorching burning in his stomach that spreads through his limbs, as if it was trying to tear him apart.

 _“I love you both until the end of time.”_ He thinks before his world goes black and the only thing he feels is an unimaginable pain. The last thing he hears his is own blood- curling scream.

X.x.X.

 _Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzz. Buzz—_ His hand dated out from under the soft comforter to smack the loudly vibrating phone that sat on the nightstand. With deft movement, the fingers slid across the screen to shut off the highly annoying sound, and then the hand retreated back under the warm sanctuary of the covers, followed by the owner of said hand groaning out softly.

“Ten more minutes, please.”

Before he even had the chance to brace himself, weight came jumping on his chest, knocking the wind out of him “Oof! Denied,” he wheezed from under the covers. Pulling them off, Pete Wentz was greeted by a head of short, unruly blonde hair and a toothy smile so similar to his own, his golden brown eyes meeting the blue-grey of the young boy.

He let his arms come up and wrap around the young child who pounced on him, pulling him in to tickle at his sides, making the young boy squeal with laugher. “Well, good morning to you too buddy,” he chuckled while greeting his 6 year-old son, Bronx, who only giggled as he tried to worm his way out of his father’s tattooed arms.

“Paaapa!” he dragged out, still giggling. “Come on! It’s time to wake up! We’re going to the carousel today!”

Pete sighed, remembering that he had promised his son to take him to the abandoned carousel in the middle of the park. Truthfully, he would much rather stay home in bed. “I don’t know buddy, there’s nothing much to look at there,” he starts, trying to remember the last time he had visited the abandoned carnival attraction, but found he couldn’t.

But Bronx had apparently inherited his father’s stubbornness. “Papa…you promised…” he said, sounding much older than he was with his arms folded across his chest. And Pete had to admit that he also inherited Ashlee’s look of disappointment, hell, he had it perfect down to the tee at 6 years old.

With a mock-defeated sigh, the dark haired man stretched in bed. “Alright, alright, I’m up.” He sat up in the bed, barely noticing that his son was already dressed to go out. “Go brush your teeth and get your shoes. We’ll go have breakfast at the diner before we head over there.”

Bronx’s face lit up with a grin as he hugged his father before taking off out the bedroom door. As soon as the little boy was out of sight, Pete fell back into bed, his hands coming up to rub down his face.

He had been a single dad for the last six years. Bronx’s mother, Ashlee, had died hours after delivering the healthy baby boy. That had been the hardest blow Pete had ever been dealt in all his life, not even being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder as a teen came close. No, going in with his beautifully pregnant girlfriend, and coming out a single father, hearing the doctor tell him that Ashlee’s heart simply couldn’t take the strain of the delivery…he had never been so broken in his life. It had been a hard road, and there were times that Pete had to call his mother for help, admit defeat and ponder whether he could be a good father to his son.

He’s been trying—trying to be stable, taking his meds and going to counseling, being there for Bronx for school, his soccer games and practices. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like it’s enough, like he needs help from a partner, but not a lot of people are interested in dating a single dad with a head full of issues.

“Papa! Are you ready?” Bronx cries out from the other side of the apartment. Pete curses himself for still being in bed. As he turns to grab his phone, he’s met with a framed picture of him and Bronx taken by his mom the last time he went to go visit, their grins identical and their eyes bright as they played in his parent’s backyard. He smiles at memory.

Maybe he was doing pretty okay as a dad.

X.x.X

“Bronx! Wait up buddy!” Pete calls out as he see the bouncing mop of blonde curls stumble as he runs down the winding cement path in the park. It’s shaded by trees of brilliant green, and the gentle breeze rustles the leaves above as the dark grey clouds brooding overhead. It’s peaceful, but Pete can’t help but feel some sort of anticipation, as if something was about to happen…but in a good way. But he shakes it off and caches up with his son.

When Pete finally catches up, Bronx dashes ahead into the opening that lead to a wide center, a forgotten carousel laying abandoned with benches around the area for seating around the once- large attraction. Pete can’t remember the last time he visited the carousel, but a friend of Bronx’s had told him about it and Pete had agreed to bring him. It was a place the rambunctious 6- year-old could explore without getting into too much trouble…at least Pete hoped.

As Pete looked around, thinking they were alone, but caught sight of a man, possibly younger than himself dressed in skinny jeans, a black shirt, and a red cardigan, with thickly- rimmed glasses and fedora perched on his head. A guitar was in his lap, and soft strains of music floated to him on the breeze.

Something about the man is suddenly painfully familiar to Pete, as if he should know him, but he can’t seem to recall, so he instead takes a seat on a bench across the forgotten carnival attraction and calls out to his son. “Be careful Bronx! Don’t touch anything you shouldn’t!”

“I won’t!” the child calls out.

So Pete sits, passing a moment on his phone before he hears the man strum out a song that makes his head spin. It’s almost familiar, and Pete can’t help but feel this odd sense of deja-vu. It’s almost like he knew this song deep in his heart, so much that it ached. Like it was an echo of something he knew, bounced off so many corners that it had distorted, shifted...but it was still _his._

He watched the other man from the corner of his eye, and flashes of bright carnival lights and a man in a yellow suit kept flashing in his mind’s eye, of blue-green hazel eyes, heart- painted lips and bright blush on cheeks. His head began to hurt, the memories pounding in his brain like a drum. The other man began to pack his guitar away, standing to stretch once it was safely in its case. Pete also made a move to stand, at least to talk to the man, maybe get his name. Maybe that would make it stop...

As he began walking towards him, the other’s back still turned, Bronx’s voice cut through the quiet.   


_“Papa!_ ” Suddenly, the rusted broken down carousel stirred to life, an old but familiar sound filled the open area. As the seemingly old carnival tune reached his ears, it was as if lighting had struck him straight to the core, and a sudden rush of memories came back to him all at once like diving into ice cold water.

_“You didn’t perform today,”_

_“You were concerned? Why so?”_

_“How could I not, when time has shown me that my shadows cannot exist without your light…”_

_“You are My Moon, my Day…”_

_“You are my Night”_

_“Love, there isn’t much time left…”_

_“Promise me…Promise you’ll find me…”_

_“I swear it…even if it takes me a thousand years…”_

_“I love you, Sandman.”_

_“I love you, My Benzedrine…”_

 He gasps for air, his hand coming to his chest as he the sudden memories returned to him, his vision blurring and his head spinning with the rush of his past life. This…was this the next life? It had to be for it to all make sense…

He looks up to the other man and sees him kneeling on the ground, a trembling hand covering his mouth as he tried to gain control of his breathing, the carousel slowly spinning to life in the background. Pete is at a loss for words, his body shaking with adrenaline as he takes in the man before him in new perspective, recognizing the blue-green eyes with a touch of hazel, the face, his nose, his lips…it was…it had to be…

“Benzedrine?” Pete gasps out shakily, hoping, praying that this was true. That the man across the park from him was really his beloved.

The man looks up, clearly still in shock, but his eyes light up with familiarity and disbelief. “Sandman?”

Hearing his name from those lips was made something break inside of him, a dam of relief that crumbled as he willed himself to take another step forward, his face threatening to break in two from his grin. Benzedrine must have felt the same pull as he lets out something between a sob and a laugh as he pushes himself to his feet and rushes to him, both of them reaching out for each other, running towards each other until they fall into each other’s arms.

“Sandman…”Benzedrine sobs as he brings their foreheads together, cradling the other's face in his palms, eyes darting over his face for a moment, sighing “Oh, _god_ , Sandman…” before kissing him deeply, reaffirming that it was _real._

Pete sighs into the kiss, returning it with as much fervor as he could muster before their lungs screamed for air, muttering the other’s name against his lips. “Benzedrine…My Benzedrine…”

The younger man gives him a watery smile as he runs his fingers through Sandman's short back hair. “It’s Patrick in this life.”

“It suits you,” he chuckles, kissing every part of his face that he could, his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. “I’m Peter, but I like Pete better…”

“Pete…” Patrick smiled, testing the name on his lips before stealing another kiss, holding on to him for dear life. When they parted once more, Patrick looked straight into whiskey colored eyes, something close to awe in their depths. “You found me…”

Pete grinned, his face beginning to ache, but he didn’t mind. “I swore I would…”

“Papa! _Daddy!!!”_

Patrick turned towards the familiar voice of their son, kneeling as Bronx barreled into the shorter, strawberry blond man, his arm wrapping around his neck for dear life, never wanting to let go. “Daddy….Daddy,” the child cried into his neck, his cardigan growing damp with tears, as Patrick’s own streamed down his face as he rocked the child back and forth in his arms. “My Little One…My Little Love… I missed you, my darling,” he murmured into his hair, fingers rubbing soothingly along his scalp.

Pete knelt beside them, bringing his arm around his found love and their son, kissing both of their heads gently. “We’re together again,” he breathed once Bronx and Patrick’s crying had ceased. Bronx, their Little One, snugged in the crook of Patrick’s neck, like he always used to do before in their old life. Patrick nods, wiping away the last of his tears.

“We came to the carousel, just like you promised!” smiled Bronx, remembering the conversation he had with them before the curse.

Pete smiled, ruffling his hair, “That we did.”

“Look,” Patrick whispered, motioning to Bronx to watch the sky, the grey clouds parting, letting the sunlight filter through, brilliant colors of reds, yellows and oranges cutting melting together into one. “Let’s watch the light bleed and blend into a new day,” he says into blonde curls, the child already enraptured by the sight before him.

“Together?” asked Bronx, looking up at Patrick with fearful eyes. Pete reached up, cupping Patrick’s face, his thumb swiping lovingly over his cheekbone, flushed with a gentle shade of pink.

“Yes, my love, together.” Patrick answers, pressing a kiss to the golden curls. Then he looked up at Pete, leaning in for a chaste kiss filled with memories and promises and love that they thought they would never find again. “Always.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a long time coming, honestly. I actually started working on this sometime last year, but it's finally done and posted! I'm so incredibly happy with how it turned out and I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> As stated above, inspiration for Kitty goes to http://archaical.deviantart(.)com/art/Chesire-Cat-318072386 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, your support, and your patience! I'm hoping to update more fics soon, especally 'In the Breaking' but updates will be sporatic due to my job. As always, feedback, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! If you have any suggestions or prompts feel free to leave them here or on my [Tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/) (aka shamless self-promoting).
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -Xoxo


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